


blue eyes, you look so haunted

by TheYearOfTheWolf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, F/M, Manipulation, Violent Thoughts, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYearOfTheWolf/pseuds/TheYearOfTheWolf
Summary: A not-so chance encounter after Russia...
Relationships: Felicity Smoak/Slade Wilson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Writing Rainbow Make Up Round





	blue eyes, you look so haunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/gifts).



He’d gotten closer than he had meant to.

When Slade had first arrived in Starling City, he’d made a point of keeping an eye on all of Oliver’s friends, family, and contacts. His mother and sister, the boy who followed Thea around like a wounded dog, and of course Laurel. Seeing her from a distance after the countless nights of Oliver staring at her photo was almost jarring. And of course, Oliver had found a way to fuck everything up once again.

 _“We should kill her first,”_ Shado whispered in his ear, phantom fingers dancing across his pulse in a way that made him want to cry out. _“The first cut is always the deepest…”_

He ignored her words. If Laurel was to die, it wouldn’t be until his work was almost done. Oliver needed to break, to truly understand what it meant to suffer. The Merlyn boy’s death had almost done the trick. Indeed, he had to employ Isabel Rochev earlier than he would have liked to get Oliver back to the city. A shame he died so soon...Slade could have used him.

Then there were Oliver’s team-mates. The soldier; nothing fancy about him, but clearly loyal, and capable of handling himself when it came to down to most challenges. 

Slade was not like other challenges.

And then the last one. The one who had piqued Slade’s curiosity when he first laid eyes on her.

Felicity Smoak.

Quirky would be the worst best-suited for her. Talkative, cheerful, but carrying a subtle mean-streak that Slade could see underneath her bubbly demeanor. And even though he wasn’t sure of the details, he could tell she had a hidden closet of skeletons. That intrigued him.

He hadn’t meant to get as close as he had.

* * *

Oliver and his companions had just returned from Russia with Isabel. He didn’t know all of the details, but one phone call with Isabel was enough to tell him that she had gotten close to Oliver. _Very_ close.

And yet it was not Oliver who he followed that night.

He’d found Felicity at one of the seedier bars in the city. A worn-down building sitting just outside the edge of the Glades. Definitely not the type of place one would think Miss Smoak would frequent. 

Then again, perhaps that’s what she was counting on: somewhere Oliver wouldn’t think to look.

She was in the back of the bar when Slade entered, enjoying the privacy of her own booth as she helped herself to a bottle of Fireball whiskey. Slade raised an eyebrow as he took her in, along with her attire. 

Gone was the standard skirts and high-heels he’d seen her wear so frequently. Instead, she was clad in rough jeans, a simple dark shirt, and a beat up leather coat thrown over a blue hoodie. The coat was worn, and looked like something she might have dug out of the trash. Or maybe somewhere she had stashed it for a few years.

Her hair was down too, almost messily. But it was still plainly her, with those soft blue eyes behind her glasses and that cute little nose that scrunched when she took a particularly large shot, a soft cough escaping her.

 _“Well if you think she’s cute, why don’t you play with her?”_ There was a hint of jealousy to Shado’s tone, an almost feral edge to it that made Slade pause. But no...Shado was right. She was alone. She was vulnerable, and clearly here because of Oliver. This would be his fault.

He slipped through the crowd like a hungry wolf, his one eye fixed solely on Felicity, and then before she was even aware, he had slipped into the seat across from her.

“You look lost,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the haze of her thoughts and causing her to almost jump. Blue eyes fixed on him, wide, almost like a deer ready to bolt.

“Oh, um, I...do I know you?” The drunken confusion in her voice drew a chuckle from Slade, and he shook his head.

“No...I just noticed you here, alone, among a sea of degenerates and was a little puzzled. And maybe a touch concerned. Someone like you shouldn’t be out here this late, in this part of the city. It’s dangerous.” He leaned forward, one hand on the table, watching her curiously.

Felicity stared at Slade with a confused expression, bordering on alarm. And then she laughed. “What? No. _I’m_ the dangerous one.” She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another shot, slamming it back rather impressively before adding, “...dangerously annoying, sure, but who cares? I don’t. I don’t care who Oli-”

She froze mid-sentence, eyes wide, and her tongue ran over her - soft and plump - lips as her mind clearly raced to find an alternate end to her sentence.

“Ma’am?”

And then another laugh escaped her, this one more forced than the first. “Sorry...it’s my boss. I was talking about all of the women he’s slept with. Which I don’t care about. I mean if he wants to be a manwhore that’s his decision.”

Her changing of the name Oliver to ‘all of the women’ was amusing, as was her just bluntly calling Oliver a manwhore. It earned a darkly amused chuckle from him as he leaned forward. “Do you need to vent, miss…?”

There was pause, as Felicity studied him, and then the bottle between them. “...you know what? I do.” Another shot was consumed before she practically hiccuped, “And you can call me Felicity, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Pirate-y.” Almost immediately her cheeks turned pink, and she bowed her head in a way that shielded her face with her hair. “...I am so sorry, that was rude,” she meekly squeaked out.

She really was adorable.

“It’s alright,” Slade murmured in reply, reaching over and taking one of her hands in his, keeping his eye locked on hers as he brought her knuckles up to his lips. He gently planted a kiss there, a gesture that pulled a subtle shudder from Felicity. This was too tempting.

“You can call me Wilson.”

* * *

They talked for almost an hour. Felicity, for as many drinks as she had, was surprisingly talented when it came to ranting about Oliver without dropping any names. He had expected her to have some sort of unrequited crush on him, but to actually listen to her up close was almost...pitiful.

Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to worry about it once he was done...of course that is, if she survived. But the more he listened to her, the more it became clear that she would be a noteworthy target near the end. When exactly was still up in the air, but he was definitely considering it.

Eventually they found themselves outside, with her leaning into him, barely able to walk on her own, as she waited for a taxi to come take her home. He’d kept an arm around her, holding her upright while she gently swayed, eyes closed.

“...I’m sorry I wasted your evening,” she mumbled softly, nuzzling into the material of his coat before looking up at him with lidded but gentle eyes.

“You didn’t, Miss Smoak,” he replied, his gruff voice carrying a subtle tenderness that few heard, and he moved one hand to brush hair out of her face. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the taxi approach. She did as well, because she started to pull herself away from him…

Only to then lean up, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her mouth to his.

Slade froze, his mind telling him to just push back, even just a little. But instead, he cupped her face and returned the kiss, softly, a shudder rippling through him. Felicity let out a soft moan against his mouth, and he nearly _growled_ in response.

_“Go back with her...you know you want to. Make her scream before you break her. It’s what she deserves...it’s what Oliver deserves…”_

Shado’s voice, so cruel, tore Slade from the moment, and he pulled back slightly, his breath a little heavier. Disappointment and regret flashed across Felicity’s face, and she tried to move back, eyes averted as the full weight of what she just did came down on her.

Slade held her firm though, cupping the back of her head as he leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead in one last, gentle kiss. As he pulled back he murmured, “...I’m not what you’re looking for, Felicity…your cab’s here.”

Felicity glanced to the taxi, and then to Slade, before slowly moving to the car. As she opened the back door, she paused, and Slade hoped to whatever God that existed that she would not ask him to come back with her.

Instead she looked back, a drunken but soft and dreamy smile playing across her features as she said, “...you’re a good guy, Wilson...good night.”

And with that, she slipped into the taxi, and it disappeared down the corner and out of sight. But the clenching in Slade’s gut remained long after he went back to his hideout.

* * *

“He’s here.”

Rising to his full height, Slade grabbed the katana from across his back, unsheathing the sword with a metallic ringing sound. He spun on his enforcer, dark eye burning as he growled, “Get Laurel...it’s time.”

The goon nodded, shoving Felicity over to him before slipping off into the shadows to collect Laurel. Slade yanked her to him, wrapping an arm around her and letting the metal of the blade run across her hair, earning a tremble and soft whimper from Miss Smoak.

And then, she spoke. It was so soft that he would have missed it if not for his heightened hearing...and he wished he had missed it.

“...I thought you were a good guy.”

That clenching in his gut returned, and a million scenarios and responses played out in Slade’s mind. And then he heard Oliver approaching, and saw Shado watching from the darkness, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he growled as he yanked her close, pressing the blade to her throat as they moved towards Oliver.

“But I’m not.”


End file.
